


foolishly, completely

by heartinsidemine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7989298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartinsidemine/pseuds/heartinsidemine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants it, though, in the quiet way that he doesn’t want most things. He wants Louis, in every way he can have him, and the thought should scare him more than it does, probably. It doesn't - it makes him think of lazy days spent looking at one another and drinking tea, being quiet and together and content.</p>
<p>And Louis smiles back, most of the time, and Harry thinks something might happen, though he can never tell what’s wishful thinking and what’s a real possibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	foolishly, completely

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place roughly around 2012, because that's when it was written, haha. i have fixed it up since then but i didn't want to age them up or anything, so here it is!! 
> 
> disclaimer: not true!

From the beginning, Harry's felt close to Louis, closer than he's felt to anyone else. And the rest of the boys, sure--but there's something different about the way Lou holds him, something that feels like more, thrums in his chest like when he used to date girls back in school.

They were the first in the band to really click, to look at one another like they were friends, more than just bandmates.

Harry’s not sure who started it, not sure how this all began, turned into something that he needs, deep inside him, but he’s not grounded properly unless he’s with Louis, within reach of him, so that he can at least graze a hand over his shoulder, whisper something into his ear, kick his shin, light.

It’s probably dysfunctional, the way he’s fixated – definitely so, really, because they’re not together, they’ve never been together. There’s always been something between them (Harry hopes, at least, because it would be horrible to be the only one in this), but neither of them have really crossed that line – there’s no going back, from some things.

He wants it, though, in the quiet way that he doesn’t want most things. He wants Louis, in every way he can have him, and the thought should scare him more than it does, probably. It doesn't - it makes him think of lazy days spent looking at one another and drinking tea, being quiet and together and content.

And Louis smiles back, most of the time, and Harry thinks something might happen, though he can never tell what’s wishful thinking and what’s a real possibility.

*

“You alright there, Harold?”

Harry looks  up from his notebook, smiling, and nods. Louis’s face is right up against his, and Harry leans in, kissing him on the nose without really thinking about it. “Brilliant,” he says, closing the book, and sits back in his chair.

Louis doesn’t move from where he is; there’s a minute shift in his gaze. His eyes lock with Harry’s for a moment, before traveling down to his lips, and back up again.

Oh, Harry thinks, and nothing else.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, and he’s so close that the words are barely breathed out but Harry can still hear them, clear.

He nods and sits up in his chair. He has a half-full notebook of lyrics on the table in front of him and Louis is just sitting there, staring at him, looking fucking terrified, and –

Harry kisses him. It's a dry press of their mouths, something they could laugh off if they wanted to (please no, he thinks, don't walk away from this).

He pulls back the smallest bit, gauging how Louis feels (because even now, after everything, he has to be sure). He swallows.

Louis nods, and reaches for him, putting a hand on the back of his neck. He smiles, and pulls him in for another kiss.

This is softer, slower – this is the slick-slow slide of tongues, lips almost chaste against each other.

It’s nothing like Harry thought kissing Louis would be – and it isn’t as though he’s thought about this, not too much, not more than a time or two while lying on his bed, jerking himself roughly (and just before falling asleep, the memory of Louis’s body pressed against his still warm in his mind) – but it’s so good. Louis understands him in a way that no one he’s kissed has ever before – he knows when Harry wants more, and he makes the most delicious whining noise when he pulls back for air.

Harry swallows, eyes shutting, and he opens them to a terrified Louis.

“What?” and his voice is rougher than it should be, deeper, and he watches, fascinated, as Louis’s eyes get darker, somehow.

“Nothing,” but that’s a lie, that much is obvious – and so Harry pulls him down by the collar, turning the chair so Louis is straddling him.

They kiss properly this time; Harry holds onto Louis’ hips, keeping him steady on his lap, and he feels himself getting hard under him – not surprising in the least, if he’s being honest.

Louis pulls away, though, and breathes out, harsh. “I – can we –” and he cuts himself off, sighing a bit.

Harry leans forward, sucking at the pulse point on his neck, smiling against his skin. “Anything you want,” he murmurs.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Louis tells him, and it would be a warning, Harry’s sure, if it weren’t so breathy, so far gone.

Harry nips at the skin before nodding, pushing at him to get Louis up. "Anything," he says, and stands up, pulling Louis toward the bed.

Louis presses him down against the bed, straddling him again, and he fumbles with the buttons of Harry’s shirt until he can slide it off, pressing kisses to the skin there. Harry squirms under him, and Louis smirks, whispers “You’re so beautiful, Haz.”

Harry goes a bit pink, turning his face to the side – and that’s different, that’s something he didn’t expect to like, being called that, beautiful.

Louis notices but doesn’t comment on it, just pulls his own shirt off before sliding his hands down Harry’s sides, smiling a bit. He undoes the button on Harry’s jeans, tugging them off, still so slow – and Harry’s so hard it hurts, the boxers tented, and he turns his face to the side again. He’s not embarrassed, really, he just – he wants so much, everything, and he needs to take a moment to collect himself.

“Hey.” This is soft, almost a whisper, and then there are cool fingers on his cheek, turning his head, and Louis is looking at him, almost nervous. He smiles at him, clearly trying to be reassuring, and he whispers, “What do you want, darling?”

Harry shakes his head, and pulls him down for another kiss, because he doesn’t know how to answer that, doesn’t know what he should and shouldn’t say. He kisses Louis instead, and it’s sharp, teeth and tongue and hands grabbing at hips, tight, and it’s perfect.

Louis lets out a moan, and Harry pushes down his trousers, kicking them off the bed until it’s nothing but their pants separating them.

He bites his lip, then, and his hands still at Louis’s sides, at the waistband. “Can I?” he asks, whispers really, nerves shaking through him.

Louis smiles, and rolls his hips once over Harry’s before nodding. “Course you can, love,” he says, the endearment slipping off of his tongue, and Harry nods at that, trembling a bit. .

Everything seems to mean more, here – it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, and the ways they’re touching each other aren’t that much further than what they have done. Harry’s always put his hands on Louis’ hips before, when moving him out of the way to get into the cupboard, and he’s always pressed his lips to a kiss at the base of his neck, but it’s never been this charged, this much.

And then they’re naked against each other – Louis chokes out a breath against Harry’s skin, whispers “shit, babe,” against his neck. He traces over Harry's might as well tattoo and swallows. Harry watches it, the little pull in his throat. It shouldn't make him shiver the way it does (but this is Louis).

 

And then Louis is pulling away, looking at him, nodding, once to himself. He pushes himself up onto his knees, looking down at Harry. He’s hard, too, but he doesn't seem to be paying it any mind; his eyes are dark but he's just staring at Harry.

He bites his lip, and trails his fingers up Harry’s leg, stopping at his hip.

“Louis,” Harry chokes out, tilting his head back against the pillows, “touch me – please,please,” and they haven’t even done anything yet but he feels desperate, wants to beg for it, for Louis to do something, anything.

Louis grins and nods, pumping Harry’s cock slowly, staring at him, still biting his lip, softer now. Harry swallows, turning his head again, and his hips shift up, wanting more.

“Shh, calm down, love,” Louis whispers, soft, and kisses him, trailing his kisses down to Harry’s neck, nipping, light, just before speeding up his hand.

“Please,” Harry gets out, and he’s already so close but it’s not enough; and he has better stamina, usually, but this is Louis who he thinks he might love but he at least wants so desperately he can barely handle it, and he reaches out, grabbing Louis’ other hand, tangling their fingers together. “Come on, Louis, please,” and his mouth falls open on a moan when Louis leans down, taking a nipple into his mouth, biting, hard.

“That good, sweetie?” he whispers, and he’s smiling a bit. “God, Harry, you look so good like this, don’t you, you’re fucking coming apart for me, and you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

Harry nods, twisting, and Louis runs his thumb over the head of his cock, not even touching his own, though he’s so hard it has to be painful.

“Come on,” Harry whispers, “let me touch you, Louis, please.”

Louis just shakes his head, though his arms are trembling. He kisses Harry again, softer now, sweet, and he murmurs “want to watch you first.”

“Let me come, then,” Harry groans out, and he tilts his hips up, needing more.

Louis speeds up his hand, then, and Harry falls apart embarrassingly quickly, panting, gasping.

He kisses Louis, when it’s just the aftershocks left, and rolls them onto their sides, pulling him close.

Louis rubs off against his hip, looking frenzied, and he makes a noise just before he comes that Harry pulls away to watch, swallowing, tight.

He’s fucking beautiful, and he’s blaming the hormones for that thought and all others like it.

Louis smiles at him, seeming almost shy now that he’s not in charge of Harry. He pulls the comforter up around them, cuddling closer to Harry.

“We should get cleaned up,” Harry murmurs, though his eyes are falling shut. Louis-induced orgasms, it seems, are energy-consuming.

“Mmm,” Louis sighs, but he’s already half gone. “Later. Sleep, H.”

Harry nods, and presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head, and lets himself sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter @ defnseless xx


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